


No Rest for the Wicked

by buildhogwartsthenwewilltalk



Series: Out of Sight, Out of Mind (Out of Body) [1]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Astral Projection, Dead Klaus Hargreeves, Gen, Ghost Ben Hargreeves, Good Sibling Ben Hargreeves, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Klaus Hargreeves Whump, Levitation, Past Drug Use, Post- apocalypse, Post-Canon, Psychic Abilities, Sober Klaus Hargreeves, Temporary Character Death, Umbrella Academy - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:00:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24688765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buildhogwartsthenwewilltalk/pseuds/buildhogwartsthenwewilltalk
Summary: The apocalypse is sorted (for now) so Klaus is left to face sobriety and all its joys. It seems his powers are only growing, and after months of tentative progress, Klaus' understanding of just what he's capable of is only starting to unfold.  God, he could really use a drink.
Relationships: Ben Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves
Series: Out of Sight, Out of Mind (Out of Body) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2121144
Comments: 12
Kudos: 385





	No Rest for the Wicked

It started a week after the world didn’t blow up. 

Sobriety was kicking Klaus’ ass, with the usual roster of wailing ghosts and horrific flashbacks acting as the ultimate deterrents to any meaningful amount of sleep, which in turn made any attempt to hold a conversation or even coherent thought infuriatingly difficult. Despite his multiple motivations to keep on track, including but not limited to conjuring his dead boyfriend, manifesting his dead brother and, oh yeah, saving the world, turns out staying on the wagon was the ultimate pain in the backside. 

This process of exhaustion, frustration and delirium climaxed during a midnight solo excursion to pick up cigarettes and gummy bears from a nearby corner store. Klaus left Ben to watch late-night reality television, departing with a flippant “ _tell me who slaps who and I promise I won’t shoot up on the way back,_ " as he slipped on his coat and out the front door.

After walking in a detached trance with supplies in tow for fifteen minutes, a final shriek in his left ear was enough for Klaus’s sleep-deprived brain to run out of patience. He turned towards the increasingly excruciating herd of the undead gathering behind him and, politely, told them to _fuck off_. A knot that had been tightening in Klaus’ stomach all week suddenly tugged and something else twisted in his throat. He cried out, and a pulse of something erupted from his hands, causing every spirit encircling him to vanish in a blue _flash_. 

After a brief collapse onto a nearby bench and a dip into his cigarette haul, Klaus enjoyed the quietest walk home he’d had in years. Recounting his tale to an ecstatic Ben in between handfuls of candy, the medium realised with a shock he may have just learnt the solution to the problem that had defined his life since he was eight years old. 

While he had far from mastered the talent, with the academy’s domestic spirits being far more enduring than the random street wanders, Klaus had managed to keep his spiritual circle limited to those that had long since taken up residence in the Hargreeves household. 

The most notable development in Klaus’ learning curve, however, occurred about two months after the apoca-wasn’t (as Klaus had dubbed it). The medium had been teasing and jabbing at Ben all afternoon, much to the deceased’s annoyance, enjoying his company in the Academy courtyard for the first time in thirteen years. The sun had been warm, the mood light and Klaus felt content for the first time in, oof lets not put a number on that. He had idly motioned to slap Ben on the shoulder, expecting it to simply swipe through him as it always did, only to feel his brother's jacket crinkle under his palm. Ben had remained solid for a full five minutes following this, and Klaus had slowly grasped what it felt like to reach through and pull his brother into the living world for the first time since the theatre. 

This had evolved into Number Six becoming a more obvious presence at the academy. While he remained invisible to all but Klaus, sometimes Ben’s imprint could be observed in the living room’s chairs or felt a chill when he stood nearby. On one memorable occasion, Vanya ended her violin practice to a shockingly present round of applause in her room. After jumping three feet in the air and knocking her music stand with a loud crash, she ran to Klaus who confirmed that her long-dead brother had, indeed, been listening from beyond the veil. 

So Klaus apparently had more of a handle on his gift than he’d had in well ... ever. As a child, his otherworldly powers had extended mostly to communing, if reluctantly, to the various bloody corpses that had taken to following him. And he’d found that had been quite enough, thank you, even before he’d been subjected to his father’s special training. But now he felt like he was stretching out, reaching gingerly into unknown territories and pulling the dead back with him. His powers felt vaguely tangible, and as much as he couldn’t help but feel pride for finally gaining some small resemblance of control, it was exhausting. 

On top of this, Klaus had found himself spending more time with his family than the whole last thirteen years put together. Used to over a decade of life on the streets with just his dead brother for consistent company, it took some adjustment to live with five estranged siblings, no matter how big the mansion was. Tensions in the house were easing a each number slowly learned how to function in a family-esque unit. However, this didn’t mean the Hargreeves didn’t find each other infuriating, especially under a roof that, while healing, held a lot of trauma, grudges and regrets. 

So, after a long day of listening to his siblings butt heads about the apparently averted apocalypse (the original deadline had long passed, but Five seemed adamant that the commission couldn’t have given up that easily), interspersed with figuring out Vanya’s powers and going through Dad’s old junk, Klaus was very much ready for bed. Or at least lying in a horizontal position with his eyes closed. 

Bedtime these days constituted of setting up Klaus’ laptop (bought on Reginald’s inheritance dime, of course) on his desk, clicking autoplay and leaving his ghostly brother to the cruel whims of the YouTube algorithm. After years of nothing but the same book and your trainwreck of a sibling for entertainment, it turned out that any pickiness had been beaten out of his dearly-but-not-quite-departed brother. This new routine had only yielded poor results once when Ben found himself subjected to hours of pimple popping videos before he managed to wake his brother to change them (despite his gory powers and, indeed, lack of physical body, turns out squeamishness could reach beyond the grave). 

Safely reassured his brother would be entertained in his absence, Klaus lay back into his pillow. For the first time since they’d moved back in, he didn’t feel the need to reach for his headphones, which lay sprawled in arms reach on his nightstand. The quiet hum of Ben’s video mixed with the warm glow of the various arrays of fairy lights melded into a comforting atmosphere that Klaus, not two years prior, would never have thought possible in his childhood bedroom. 

Sure the two brothers weren’t completely alone, Klaus was dimly aware of a young woman muttering about her ‘ _bastard of a husband_ ’ in the corner and an old man standing ominously by the door frame, but they were muted, dampened both by the reassuring ambience and the fact that someone the Seance had begun to get his shit together. Who would have thought it? 

Klaus felt settled, as relaxed as he ever could be all things considered, and it was this unfamiliar sense of peace that allowed him to drift wordlessly off to sleep. 

\---

Klaus didn’t clock something wrong immediately. In fact, he found his current state quite pleasant. No gunfire, no moaning voices, no whispering doubts. He was simply floating, suspended in the nothing but a cool, gentle haze. 

This haze was broken when he became aware of a voice, distant and quiet, calling vaguely to his left. Klaus groaned, moving to rub his hands across his face, absently noticing that he was upright as he blindly felt for his pillow, to no avail. The voice called again. 

“... kl a us …. Kla us … k l a u s,” 

Oh yeah, that was his name. He wasn’t sure where it was coming from though. It was hard to focus, his senses feeling dull and distant. 

“ _KLAUS,_ ” 

On the last call, Klaus opened his eyes, blearily searching for the source of the noise. He twisted to see his brother staring, wide-eyed, in his direction, his lips parted and his arms held awkwardly outstretched towards him.

“... what the fuck Ben … are you watching zit videos again 'cause, to be honest, I really can’t be fucked to get up and-."

“- Klaus ... look!”

Klaus frowned. What is Ben's deal he's only - oH SHIT. 

Klaus’ eyes travelled down to find … himself. Holy shit that was him. 

That was him, on his bed. Eyes half-open, lips parted, hands resting, motionless, on his eerily still chest.

Panic bubbled to Klaus' throat as he moved to stagger away in horror, but he found his feet unresponsive. He lost his balance, falling backwards towards his crowded nightstand, instinctively holding his hands out to catch himself on the surface. Except that didn’t work. Instead, he felt a shudder, a numb pressure through his palms as they passed through the wood and continued to fall with a silent bump to the ground.

Ben was immediately by his side. 

“Klaus - shit shit shIT- Klaus it’s okay it’s okay just breathe I’ve got you,”

And holy shit he did. Klaus became aware of a cool pressure on his shoulder, not quite like the fleeting physical contact the two had begun to snatch on particularly lucid days, but sure and solid. This was enough to snap Klaus, if barely, out of his panic. He turned his head to look up at his brother.

Ben was kneeling next to him, both hands now on his brother’s shoulders and eyes wide with disbelief. 

“... you with me?” 

Klaus wasn’t sure. This is insane, how the hell is this happening this makes no sense how is he de- 

“-Klaus?” 

Ben was really looking concerned now.

Klaus shuddered. 

Okay talking. He can do that.

“... I don’t know. I don’t,”

Apparently not. 

He looked down, for the first time, at his ... form. He was wearing an old band t-shirt and tight black leggings, the same clothes he went to sleep in (the same clothes the body was wearing on the bed). His tattoos stood out against pale skin and, as he timidly flexed his hands, he finally noticed something that should have been obvious the moment he opened his eyes.

His limbs were outlined in flickering blue light, spreading out from his fingers and extending down along his skinny frame down to his bare feet, his black nail varnish reflecting the neon in an eerie-yet-familiar glow. He also realised, with a jolt, he was floating. Only a few inches from the ground, sure, but there was definitely a gaping space between himself and the floor.

This realisation seemed to click something into place, and, despite every fibre of him wanting to panic, Klaus took an impossible breath.

“Huh,”

A pause. He was vaguely aware of music in the background, something light, breezy and acoustic that clashed almost hilariously with the tidal wave of _what the fuck_ overwhelming the room.

Ben was still touching his arm. Solid and present despite, well, everything. Klaus looked back up. 

“... so … am I dead?” 

Ben frowned, glancing behind him at the very still, very quiet, very definitely not breathing body on his brother’s bed. He then looked back to Klaus, wreathed in familiar blue light that could only be identified as _power_. It was coming off him in waves, despite the obvious fear and confusion that marked his face. 

“I don’t know I … I don’t think so?” he whispered as he looked back to the bed, “You were just asleep … and then I heard movement behind me and you were just … there? Standing over yourself, watching,”

He got onto his knees, one hand still on his now shaking brother’s shoulder as he examined the same brother’s body. 

“Apart from … well, the obvious… you look fine? No injuries, no symptoms, nothing? It’s like you’ve just ...,” He turned back to face him, “... left?”

Klaus considered this. Slowly he got to his feet, lifting a hand to hold Ben’s arm as his brother moved to follow, shuffling back to his bedside. 

This was weird. This was so _fucked up_. 

He felt like he was in a movie, taking one last look at his mortal remains before a tall bathrobe-clad skeleton came to take him to the beyond, populated by toga-clad, harp wielding Christmas angels. But he’d died before, and there had been no out of body experiences or time for existential questioning. Just a quick knock to the head, and suddenly he was somewhere else, with a cranky pre-teen telling him firmly that he wasn’t wanted. 

This was different. 

He was still here, still tethered to the living world. As the thought crosses behind his eyes, he suddenly became aware of a tight, solid and _familiar_ tension pulling in his not-gut. 

Ah. 

“You don’t think... you don’t think I’m doing this?” he whispered as he gestured to his glowing form, barely wanting to believe what he was suggesting. 

Ben grit his teeth. 

“Judging by the light show you’ve got going on right now? Yeah, Klaus, I think you are,”

Well shit.

“But how… how the fuck?” 

There was the panic again. 

“I wasn’t even trying to do anything, I was just sleeping I can’t-,”

He suddenly became aware of how cold, how _still_ he was. There was a chill seeping under his skin that re-ignited an all-consuming _panic_ , making him register the numbness in his fingers, the static in his limbs, the absence in his chest. _No heartbeat_ , he thought vaguely. 

Hands came up to his face.

 _Oh yeah, Ben’s here._

“Klaus you need to calm down,” 

Easy for him to say. But again, the pressure on his cheeks was grounding, and Klaus locked eyes with his now vividly present brother and took a deep breath in … and out. 

A few more moments passed like that, with Ben’s astonished face in front of his own as Klaus began to grasp what was happening.

He was what … a ghost? But ghosts didn’t glow. That is unless he was controlling them, willing them in or out of this world. So what did that make him? He hadn’t died, at least not in any conventional sense. But Ben’s vivid form and gentle touch implied that maybe, just maybe, Klaus was a little less alive right now than he was when he went to sleep. 

Klaus nodded to Ben, who took his hands back, looking at him like he was a spooked animal, his arms still held out as if to keep him from bolting. Klaus turned and slowly bent down to examine his … body. 

Somehow he was piercing the veil. Which means, logically, he must have a way un piercing it. Yeah, logic. That’s what the resident ghost whisperer who lived in a house with six ex-superheroes, their robot mother and a talking chimpanzee needed. 

He wasn’t sure what made him reach out. Some fascination with seeing your own body from the outside combined with a gut instinct, something Klaus was slowly but surely learning how to trust again. 

All he knew was the moment his finger lightly brushed his own cool skin, something _snapped_ and he was flung forward. A muffled cry came from behind as the world abruptly fell around him.

\--- 

Several things happened at once. First, Klaus felt a shuddering nauseating breath force itself into his throat, causing him to catapult into an upright position as air invaded and quickly evacuated his lungs. Next, he felt his arms spasm as he moved to raise them to catch his head, pins and needles flooding to his hands as he felt his blood begin to re-circulate, pulsing with each beat of his stuttering heart. He shudders, his chest mechanically sucking air in and out as he registers the clouds of fog enveloping his brain as it kicks back into life. 

Klaus wasn’t sure what happened the next few moments, as this mess of bodily functions collided against wave upon wave of sheer and utter fear, leaving him shaking under twisted bedsheets. His body doesn’t feel like his own, and while he is painfully aware of every extremity, he feels numb and detached, like he hasn’t fully slipped back under his skin. 

He’s also dimly aware of a ghost - Ben- next to him. After a few more breaths he turns to face his brother, whose face is a mixture of awe, bewilderment and total that Klaus is briefly struck by the desire to laugh. He decides to break the tension, despite the fact he himself is thrumming with it.

“... well… that was something,”

He winced as his throat protested, each word grating against his vocal cords. 

Ben tries to touch his arm, his hand phasing straight through. Apparently, Klaus is in no state for party tricks, despite pulling off the spiritual manoeuvre of the century. 

“Are you okay?” 

Bit of a stupid question to be honest. Klaus’ whole body felt both utterly empty and in abject agony. His mind was reeling with both brain fog and a myriad of increasingly troubling revelations about himself. Not only had he just died, again, but somehow he’d managed to stick around this time to observe his own freezing corpse. Forgive a guy for not taking it in his stride. 

But Ben needed an answer, so he nodded. He extracted his body from his bedsheets, wincing at his stiff muscles, and placed his bare feet on the bedroom floor. Running his hands through his hair, Klaus squeezed his eyes shut, resting his elbows on his knees.

“... what the actual … fuck,” 

Ben sat next to him. 

“I think … you might have just discovered a new power,” 

“Yeah … no shit,” Klaus muttered. Everything felt out of synch, even as his chest rose and fell he couldn’t quite register the movement in time, like a marching band offbeat from the drum major. 

Ben remained still to his right, and Klaus could feel his brother’s cogs turning, trying to rationalise the last few minutes. 

In the silence, the laptop’s music grated against Klaus’ senses, and before he knew it he had leaned over to silence the device. The room became still once more as he resumed his position on the bed, this time sitting up straight. As he stared blankly at the wall he dimly realised the other ghosts were gone too. _Shame, really. They missed one hell of a show._

__

__

With that thought, he slowly found himself slip back to reality. Ben seemed to sense this, taking one more second before he spoke again.

“How do you feel?”

Klaus smirked humorlessly.

“Like death,”

“Be serious,”

“I am. So very serious," 

Klaus shook his head.

"Feels like I’m the first living person to get to grips with the joys of rigour Mortis, and my head’s been pickled with the good stuff, and I don’t mean my usual poisons,”

Ben frowned. “Klaus I think you just ... died...,”

“-Wouldn’t be the first time-,”

“... but not properly. You just stopped living. Do you realise how insane that is?”

Honestly? Yeah, that was insane. But instinctively it felt right, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Klaus was alive, then he was not. And, as a side, his soul took a little field trip into the ghostly plane before jumping right back home again. Without prompting Klaus had gone where, as far as he knew, no one had gone before. Without even being fully conscious. 

His hands went to the dog tags hanging around his throat, the cool metal familiar under his fingers. A well-established habit now, that seemed to be the final anchor to the real world. It also allowed Klaus to process that Ben was still talking. 

“... but it makes sense, right? If you can bring ghosts back through to the living world, why can’t you come into our territory too? Dad treated you like a kind of, I don't know, one foot in the grave kind of deal. A door between two planes. Well, doors go both ways,”

When you put it like that it made perfect sense. As much as Klaus would publicly deny it, being right was one of Ben’s many irritating talents. However, it was one thing to hear your ever observant and rational brother explain it and another to actually, you know, do it. 

Klaus inhaled, tapping anxious fingers against his knees. God, he needed a smoke. Or a drink. Or perhaps something stronger (so much stronger). 

For now, though, everything but nicotine was out of the question, so he let go of the tags and leaned across Ben to his nightstand, fumbling through stacks of Allison’s old magazine and nail polish for his lighter and then crossed, shakily, to the window. Swiping the half-empty pack from the ledge, he shuddered as he pulled the glass open and brought a cigarette to his lips. 

He could feel Ben’s gaze against his neck as he sparked the cigarette alight, taking a long drag and exhaling smoke over the city skyline. The chilled air swept over his bare arms as the hit spread throughout his lungs, settling the vibrating anxiety thrumming inside his chest. 

They sat in silence for a few moments, broken only by Klaus’s deep inhales and the quiet hum of late-night traffic. Ben joined his brother at the window, motioning as if to speak when he was interrupted by a groan, as Klaus rubbed his hand over his face. 

“Fuck,” 

A beat of silence. Ben looked expectantly as Klaus stared blankly across the landscape. 

Another beat. Nothing.

Ben sighed, leaning against the windowpane.

“You still with me?”

More silence. 

“... yeah,” 

Yet another beat of silence. Then one more. A quiet Klaus was never anything but unnerving. 

“You okay?”

Klaus considered. He could see his reflection in the window glass. Red rimmed eyes and dark circles stood out against his pale skin, and he couldn’t help but think that he looked more like a ghost than Ben did. Not a very helpful thought. 

Klaus inhaled, and a crooked smile broke out across his face. He let out a quiet laugh, which shuddered through him as his free hand ran through his hair. 

“Honestly? No …. But also … yeah. I mean, just another addition to the pile of ‘number four’s list of creepy-ass quirks, am I right?” 

He continued to snicker, stopping only to take another drag. 

“As if talking to stiffs wasn’t enough, turns out I might be able to come to join the party whenever I like. Without even being invited,” 

He paused, taking a final inhale and stubbing the end out on the sill. 

“Lucky me,” 

He leaned against the frame, knocking gently against the single potted plant Vanya had tasked him with keeping alive. Something about responsibility and routine being good for recovery. All Klaus knew was that it still looked vaguely green and even had a few flowers clinging on, despite his jammy memory and its precarious position on his favourite angst-ing spot, so that had to be a win. 

Klaus turned towards his sibling, not quite looking him in the eyes. He smirked again. 

“Can you imagine what our dearest father would say if he knew I could do that? Bet the old man is spinning in his grave. Or pile, to be more precise”. 

Klaus seamlessly lit another cigarette, inhaled and looked up at his cracked ceiling. 

“Yeah that's right you old bastard, finally get my shit together and there’s fuck all you can do about it,” 

Somehow, despite everything, this felt like a bigger rebellion than all the lying, drinking and stealing Klaus had pulled in his teens. Turns out spite is a hell of a high, go figure. 

Didn’t mean Klaus wasn’t scared shitless though.

He laughed again humorlessly and shut his eyes. 

Ben sighed, leaning closer. 

“This is good, you know that right? It’s weird, yeah, but it means your sobriety kick is actually got something else to show for itself,”

“Yeah sure. Another freaky ass power that I have no idea how to control that could let off and bite me in the ass at any time, yippee,”

“You’re starting to get your other powers under wraps, why not add another to your belt?” Ben paused. “Fuck, this might even be an asset,”

Klaus frowned, facing his brother fully. 

“... what do you mean?”

Ben shrugged. 

“I don’t know. Maybe understanding what it’s like from our side, being incorporeal and shit, maybe it will help understand how to bring spirits forward. Walk a mile in our shoes,” 

“Or float, maybe more accurate,” 

Ben raised an eyebrow. 

“You’ve come so far these last few months. You literally talk to the dead. How much weirder can visiting the ghostly plane once in a while be than having a chat with the big one upstairs?”

Klaus scrubbed his hand over his face, using the other to extinguish his cigarette. He had a point there too.

Thinking about it, was that what the ghosts felt like, waking up after death? Tetherless and confused, floating in nothing until realising that you’re an echo, silent and separate from the physical world. He considered how it had felt, passing soundlessly through the nightstand without even a courteous thump, and staring at his own apparently lifeless, cooling, _dead_ body. 

How it felt to not quite, not truly, exist. 

Yeah, no wonder they scream bloody murder.

He became aware of a tugging in his stomach, a sensation he’d come to associate with his 'power' or whatever, and in the corner of his eye he saw Ben become a little more solid, a little more real as he leant against the windowsill. His presence had begun to leave moisture prints on the window tiles before Klaus exhaled, and Ben shifted back to being _almost-but-not-quite_ there. 

Huh.

So maybe his brother really is on to something.

He turned to lean back against the window, finally beginning to feel like his body was his own again. The static in his hands and feet had subsided, and he could feel the steadying rise and fall in his chest clearing the fog across his eyes. 

He surveyed his room, vaguely staring at his still-open laptop which had switched to the screensaver, its ebbing and flowing blue light faintly spreading over his scribbled walls. There were clothes spread across his floor, and a pile of mismatched novels stacked precariously by his bed. Fairy lights twinkled idly, the familiar rhythm giving Klaus something to focus on. 

He inhaled. He knew that Ben was right, this was just another hammer-horror level quirk to add to the long-lasting absurdity that was his life. But while his disorientation from the experience had subsided, he couldn’t help but shiver. 

It was nothing next to the numbness of a prescription high, nor sleeping on the freezing winter streets. But, this new power brought an absence of feeling that didn’t repulse, but unnerve him. Being almost- dead was nothing new, but witnessing your own, apparently lifeless, corpse beneath you could freak a guy out. Sue him.

But...

Despite all the familiar existential dread, Klaus couldn’t help but feel … curious? The last few months of probing had revealed that there was a lot more to Klaus’ gifts than he’d thought. As much as Sir Reginald Hargreeves was a world-class asshole, he appeared to be on to something about Number Four’s untapped potential. If he could learn to control this, to do it on command rather than in an unconscious stupor, maybe he could actually be of use to his siblings in the whole ‘avert-the-apocalypse’ campaign? Yeah, he wasn’t sure how. But could you imagine the look on Luther’s face when the resident screw-up somehow pulled this out of his ass? He’d have to frame it, hang it right next to Five in the living room. 

But all that meant that Klaus would have to try and do it again, and fuck knows if that was going to happen, let alone again tonight. 

He turned to Ben, who was staring expectantly at his brother, with eyebrows raised and arms folded. Klaus sighed. 

“I can’t deal with this right now ... I’m going back to bed,”

Ben moved as if to protest but paused, his arms falling to his sides. Maybe Klaus looked as shit as he felt, or perhaps Ben recognised one of his brother’s verbal brick walls when he heard one. 

Klaus moved towards his bed, stopping only to swipe his hands over his laptop’s trackpad and hitting the spacebar. Idle chatter resumed from the speakers as Klaus gracefully collapsed on top of his sheets, feeling for a blanket that he pulled over his head. As much as the lingering fear he’d wake up over his own stiff corpse again did cross his mind, something about the exhaustion weighing in his limbs told him his powers weren’t going to manifest again tonight. Thank God (and her ridiculous bicycle for good measure). 

Ben resumed his position at Klaus’ desk, and to an outsider, it seemed nothing extraordinary had occurred in the last thirty minutes. But both knew otherwise, and Klaus thought idly, as his last dregs of energy drained away, that this wasn’t something that he could ignore, as much as that was his usual M.O.

But fuck it. Didn’t hurt to try.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi :) Thanks for giving this a go! This is the first time I've actually posted any fic I've written, and if I'm honest most of this was cobbled together in a boredom fed stupor over the last 24 Hours as lack of uni work and a seemingly eternal lockdown has given me endless amounts of free time. 
> 
> This is a one-shot, but I have some vague ideas for a sequel/ continuation if inspiration strikes me. 
> 
> Again, thanks for reading (and bring on season 2 of TUA! Hopefully, it will be a bit more cheery than this angsty rambling) ^_^


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